


Day 5 - Kissing

by elessar_undomiel



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge - Johnlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Sherlock, John's Jumpers, M/M, Mistletoe, Purple Shirt of Sex, pining buttons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessar_undomiel/pseuds/elessar_undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock takes advantage of useful Christmas traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 5 - Kissing

When John came back home he was clearly tired out. Well, it would have been clear if Sherlock hadn’t been in his Mind Palace. When he came back to reality, John was curled up on his armchair, taking a nap. Sherlock stared for a few minutes at his face, so peaceful and relaxed in his sleep, and felt the sudden and compelling need to cover it all with kisses. Luckily, John woke up before he could mess everything up.

“Hey” He said drowsily, a wide smile spreading through his face. “Back to Earth, are you?” He took a glance at his watch. “Time to get ready, they’re coming in half an hour”

‘They’ meant the whole pack: Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly ad her new boyfriend. Thank God Mycroft had politely refused John’s invite: he had never fancied Christmas dinners… Neither Sherlock did, but as long as John was there he didn’t actually care. Furthermore, he had a plan to finally verify if his feelings were returned, minimising the consequences of a negative answer.

He went to his room and chose his best outfit: the centrepiece was his purple shirt, that seemed to threaten John’s I-am-not-gay wall more than any other, and gave up on his elegant trousers in favour of a pair of slinky jeans.

When he went back to the living room, John had already had a shower and put on a terrible Christmas jumper. Keeping from ripping it apart an snogging John senseless right there and then was almost painful, but John’s wide eyes when he entered the room -as gracefully as he could- were a quite good reward.

Before anything could happen, the first guests knocked, and John cleared his throat and went to open the door, almost tripping on the armchair.

The evening was unpredictably pleasant, and they were all a bit tipsy by the end of the dinner - everyone except Sherlock, who needed to remain focused. The guests sat on the sofa and kept chatting while John was carrying the dishes to the sink. Sherlock decided that he couldn’t waste the opportunity: he sneaked off to his room, seized what he needed and ran back to the kitchen. When John tried to pass him by he grabbed his arm. John’s eyes moved from Sherlock’s to his lips, to the strained buttons of his shirt and then back to his eyes. Good sign. Sherlock dared to gesture upwards with his head and John’s gaze followed the pointing: a mistletoe was hanging above them - carefully placed by Sherlock a few seconds before.

Sherlock lowered his face ever so slowly, until they were inches apart, and then, just as slowly, moved to place a feathered kiss on his cheek.

John looked completely shocked, and Sherlock started fearing he had ruined everything. He was ready to explain that it was just a meaningless tradition, he was ready to deny everything, because hiding his feelings was so much better than losing John… He couldn’t lose John, why the hell had he risked everything? He had been so stupid, how could he ever hope that a man like John could ever love someone like him??

Sherlock was panicking. He had never felt like this, he didn’t know what to do.

Then something broke, and John was fisting his shirt with a hand and grabbing his collar with the other, and he was pulling him down and smashing his lips against Sherlock’s. It took him a few seconds to realise what was happening, but then he was holding John as tight as he could, supporting his weight as he stood on his tiptoes. And then John’s tongue was in his mouth and his mind went blank. When they moved apart, still clung to each other, they were panting, and John was smiling so happily and lovingly. He stroke Sherlock’s cheek and whispered “You bastard, you’ve made me pine for years! You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do it…” Sherlock was completely speechless, but he turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on John, to kiss the palm of his hand.

John pulled his head down again and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Then they stayed there, foreheads pressed against one another.

Nobody was chatting anymore, the sitting room was quiet, but they didn’t care about their audience: there was no one, no one in the world but them.


End file.
